Oh, That Sweet Unrest
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Each piece in this series is based on a piece of text that speaks to the tension between wanderlust and roots:
Peach, Plum, Pear
Joanna Newsom
We speak in the store
I'm a sensitive bore
You seem markedly more
And I'm oozing surprise
But it's late in the day
And you're well on your way
What was golden went gray
And I'm suddenly shy
And the gatherin' floozies
Afford to be choosy
And all sneezing darkly
In the dimming divide
And I have read the right books
To interpret your looks
You were knocking me down
With the palm of your eye
This was unlike the story
It was written to be
I was riding its back
When it used to ride me
AND WE WERE GALLOPING MANIC
TO THE MOUTH OF THE SOURCE
WE WERE SWALLOWING PANIC
IN THE FACE OF ITS FORCE
And I am blue
I am blue and unwell
Made me bolt like a horse
Now it's done
Watch it go
You've changed some
water runs from the snow
Am I so dear?
Do I run rare?
And you've changed some
Peach, plum, pear...
Peach, plum...
